


The Schittiest Christmas Pageant Ever

by TheMelancholyVegetable



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas pageant, David Rose is a Competent Adult, M/M, Moodboards, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, romcom ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMelancholyVegetable/pseuds/TheMelancholyVegetable
Summary: Based on the prompt: Schitt's Creek has a Christmas pageant.  Everyone is recruited to help.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	The Schittiest Christmas Pageant Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magnolia8727](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia8727/gifts).



> To Magnolia8727, I'm sorry that this gift is late. Life very much got in the way. I hope that I have done your prompt justice.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, all mistakes are mine.

**November 15 th**

“Did the baby sprinkle teach you nothing, David?”

“Okay, this wasn’t the same thing, and you know it,” David deflects, turning from sweeping the floor to gesticulate at Patrick more effectively. “I didn’t _volunteer_ to organize this _monstrosity_ , I was _forced into it_!”

“Sure, David, sure,” Patrick teased, “remind me, was it the baked goods or the promise of creative control that forced your hand?”

“You know what? Just for that, you don’t get any of Jocelyn’s Nanaimo bars.” With that, David goes back to sweeping. The sooner they finish closing, the sooner they can get home. He has mood-boarding to do.

💙🖤💙🖤

**November 20 th**

David looks around the floor at his discarded sketches and notes, and okay, Patrick may have had a point when he teased David for taking this project on. But he cannot admit defeat now. He successfully planned his dream wedding in just over 3 months, damn it, he can plan a Christmas pageant for the town. All he has to do is design and create the décor, find a caterer, rent a space, arrange for seating, and find and book the entertainment.

The problem is, he has no idea what a Christmas pageant actually entails. When, five days ago, he’d told Jocelyn he’d do it, his only point of reference for a pageant was Little Mister. It was only when he’d cornered Jocelyn in the cafe two days later to ask for the ages and talents of the contestants that he’d learned his mistake. He really wishes Roland and Ray hadn’t been there for that conversation, but there’s nothing to be done about that now.

Jocelyn had explained that a Christmas pageant could be lots of things – a parade, a talent showcase, a nativity, anything, really, that the organizer wanted it to be. She herself was partial to a parade, but with a toddler at home, she just didn’t have the time to organize it this year.

That evening, David had fallen down a rabbit hole of terrible YouTube videos. It was all basically countless renditions of small children doing some dreadful play based on a book, a lot of _very_ church-y skits about baby Jesus, and a surprising number of reindeer furry suits and scantily-clad women dressed as inappropriate Santas.

Now, three days after that disaster, he has been through an entire notebook’s worth of paper trying to decide the best way to go about this Herculean task. He knows, whatever kind of pageant he ends up with, it needs to be secular. He doesn’t want to deliberately exclude anyone. So no nativity plays. Parades are tacky, but maybe it would be easy to organize? He’s never really been to a parade, so he doesn’t know. The most correct option would be a talent showcase, but it also seems like the hardest to pull together. Like one of Patrick’s beloved open mic nights, but planned and polished and – _shudder_ – family friendly.

Who is he kidding? He’s going to have to ask Patrick for help. He cannot possibly be expected to orchestrate anything that requires a child-friendly atmosphere.

David sighs heavily as he gets up and goes in search of his husband.

Patrick looks up from his reading when David enters the bedroom, leaning forward in his chair and setting his book on the bench of their bay window.

“Hi, babe,” he says, holding his arms open for David, “how’s the planning coming?”

David steps into his arms, pulling Patrick’s head against his chest briefly before sitting on his husband’s lap.

He takes a deep breath and scrunches his eyes closed before saying, “You were right.”

Patrick laughs, a single, loud huff of laughter. “I’m sorry, can you say that again?”

David slaps his shoulder, but says it again anyway. “You were right. I should never have told Jocelyn I’d plan this thing. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“But you did all those Little Mister pageants,” Patrick says.

“OK, I know you think it’s funny that I didn’t know what a Christmas pageant was, but I am coming to you for support right now, not snark,” David pouts.

“I’m serious, David,” Patrick says soothingly. “Look, this thing is supposed to showcase people’s talents, right?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that what Little Mister did?”

“I mean, I suppose, if you want to reduce it to its most basic essence.”

“And, Little Mister featured children. So it’s basically what you are trying to do here, but you can have adults perform, too.”

“Yes, but….”

Before he can voice another objection, Patrick interrupts with, “Not to mention, David, your family threw a lavish Christmas party every year to entertain hundreds of guests. Now, I know you have a limited budget here, but you can do this. Take everything you learned from Little Mister and everything you learned from your parents’ party, and apply it to the pageant.”

David takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know.”

“David,” Patrick says, pulling him in to press a soft kiss to his lips, “you can make it beautiful.”

And really, that is low. Patrick knows David can’t resist that line, but David kisses him again anyway and lets himself be distracted for a few minutes. It doesn’t last, and he finds himself pulling back to say, “But Patrick. Children.” And if he sounds whiny, so be it.

Patrick chuckles. “Aww, David, are you afraid of the tiny humans?”

“Calling children ‘tiny humans’ is incorrect,” David retorts. “Also, yes.”

Patrick laughs outright at that and pulls David back in for more kissing. But before they go to bed, he promises to help with the youth portion of the pageant.

💙🖤💙🖤

**December 12 th**

The pageant is one week away. In point of fact, Patrick has taken on all of the talent organizing. He treated it like one of his open mic nights, posting sign up sheets around town for one week, and then corralling everyone for regular rehearsals as if they are a Schitt’s Creek Community Theater production and not a rag tag group of solo acts. If David wasn’t so busy with the rest of the planning (on top of keeping the store running through their busiest season), he might be suspicious. As it is, he is merely annoyed that he and Patrick have so little free time to spend together.

While David is thrilled to have his husband’s help, he still has an enormous amount of work to do in the lead up to the pageant. That is why he is standing in the meeting room above the Apothecary, trying to get the attention of Ray, Ronnie, Twyla, and George.

“Okay, people, attention!” David yells. “Ronnie, where are we with the venue?”

“The stage is built and the curtain is rigged, but the stage lighting we thought we had is busted. I’m working on it, though. I’ll let you know if my connection works out,” Ronnie winks.

“What about chairs?” David asks.

“On loan from the school, the Elmdale Rotary Club, and my caterer friend.”

“Perfect!” David checks Ronnie off his list and moves on. “Twyla? George? Food?”

Unsurprisingly, Twyla answers. David’s not sure he’s ever actually heard George speak. “Everything is on schedule. It’s a mix of heavy and light h’ors d’ouevres, like you said you wanted. We have walnut, sage, and cranberry stuffed mushrooms, bacon-wrapped scallops, bacon-wrapped stuffed dates, a cheese and cracker spread, chocolate dipped marshmallows, peppermint bark, hot chocolate, and hot apple cider.”

David blinks at her a couple of times before he answers, “That sounds, uh, that sounds wonderful, actually.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as surprised as he feels. If he does, at least Twyla doesn’t seem to notice, smiling at him serenely from her seat.

He grimaces back at her, puts another check mark on in his notebook, and then moves on. “Ray? How about you?”

“Oh, I am all set! And so excited to be a part of this festive occasion! I’m so glad we could come to an agreement on the price, David!”

“Mmm, yes Ray,” David deadpans. “Me too. So glad.”

“I will be honest, I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull off still photography and video recording at the same time, but as it turns out my niece will be in town and she has agreed to help out!”

“What do you mean? We didn’t request video-,” David starts to protest, but a loud crash from downstairs, followed by the sound of his husband cursing, interrupts him.

“OK, everyone. Thanks for coming,” he yells as he starts toward the stairs. “It sounds like we’re on track! Byeeee!”

By the time he has ascertained that no one is seriously injured and that only two bottles of body milk have to be damaged out, David has forgotten about Ray and his excessive cameras.

💙🖤💙🖤

**December 19 th**

Pageant day dawns bright and sunny and very, very cold. With the possible exception of snow, David can’t imagine more perfect weather for a winter holiday themed event. He arrives at town hall at a quarter past 11, only 15 minutes later than he told Stevie he’d meet her. She has promised to help him set up the chairs and (tastefully) decorate the hall. When he walks in she is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and nursing a giant to-go cup of coffee from the café.

By way of greeting, she says, “Remind me why I’m doing this for you?”

“Because you are a kind person who cares about your best friend not making a fool of himself in front of the whole town?”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Stevie answers as he hauls her unceremoniously to her feet.

“Oh, right, it’s because I gave you a case of wine for your 12 wines of Christmas thing. Which we both know is just you getting really drunk 12 nights in a row. Which is different from the rest of the year how exactly?”

Stevie answers with a rude gesture as she starts setting up chairs. David gets started on the decorations and they work in companionable silence. The whole thing takes a couple of hours and by the time they are finished they are starving, so they head over to the café.

David has just taken a large bite of his steak and cheese sandwich when Jocelyn approaches their table, toddler in tow.

“David! I’m so glad I ran into you,” she begins, smile plastered on her face as Roland, Jr. clings to her leg with grubby fingers and stares up at David.

David swallows his bite and pastes on a smile to match Jocelyn’s. “Hi. Um, what can I do for you, Jocelyn?”

“David, I just wanted to say how grateful I am for all you have done with the pageant.”

She sounds sincere, and David is momentarily taken aback. When he doesn’t immediately respond, she goes on. “I really felt like the town needed this, but Rollie, Jr. here has gotten so wild – they don’t call it the terrible twos for nothing! – and I just knew you were the right person to ask to help.”

David clears his throat, in serious danger of crying in the middle of Twyla’s Café Tropical. And while it wouldn’t be the first time, it’s not something he wants to repeat. “Thank you, Jocelyn,” he finally manages, “that is very kind.”

By 6:00, Twyla and George have arrived with the food. By 6:30, the stage is set and the performers are warming up. Ray’s niece has set up a video camera to record the various performances, though David still doesn’t remember actually hiring Ray to do video. But it’s too late now for an argument, so David will just accept the change. He’s gotten better at that over his time in Schitt’s Creek. So instead of confronting Ray, he heads to the food tables to help Twyla and George set up. Okay, and maybe to get first dibs on the bacon-wrapped dates.

Tastebuds sated and a cup of spiced cider in hand, David turns his attention to the stage where his husband has just stepped out in front of the curtain.

“Good evening, and welcome to the first annual Schitt’s Creek Holiday Pageant! I want to start by saying a big thank you to everyone who helped bring this event together. Thank you to Ronnie Lee for the stage and the tables and chairs and the audio set up and for finding us a florist and a print shop to help out. I hope I didn’t leave anything out,” Patrick pauses here to look down at Ronnie in the front row who just glares at him. There is a smattering of laughter and he continues, “Thanks to Twyla and George for the delicious food. Thanks to Stevie Budd for her help with the leg work. Thanks to Jocelyn Schitt for the idea and to my husband, David Rose, for the vision and planning to turn that idea into what you see here tonight. And most of all, thank you to the amazing performers we are going to see tonight! You can follow along in your program,” he holds up his copy to emphasize the point. “You may notice that the final performance of the night is a surprise. It involves every single performer you’ll see on this stage tonight, so make sure you stick around for that one. I’ll be extra special.” At that, he half-winks in David’s direction, then turns as the curtain opens to reveal an ensemble of small children dressed in homemade costumes.

David loses interest almost immediately in the children half singing half whispering their way through Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He’s too busy wondering what that wink Patrick gave him was for. This “extra special surprise” will almost certainly be embarrassing. He heads back to the food table. If he has to be nervous, he can at least stuff himself full of sugar cookies and cider.

A grueling 47 minutes later, the Jazzagals have completed their medley of holiday songs. David has to admit that their rendition of Carol of the Bells was shockingly decent. Ronnie really carried the bass. But now that it is over, Patrick is back out on stage talking about a five minute break to set up for the finale, and David is nervous all over again. Nervous and so stuffed he can’t even stress eat.

The lights dim. The curtain stays closed, but Patrick comes out and stands in front of a microphone in the spotlight. He begins to sing, unaccompanied.

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas_

_There is just one thing I need_

_I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree._

_I just want you for my own_

_More than you could ever know._

_Make my wish come true_

_All I want for Christmas is you._

On the final note, Patrick raises his arm to point at David. Then three things happen at once. The lights come up, a drumbeat starts, and the curtain rises to reveal risers full of singers stage right, Stevie among them, and a small band of adolescents with instruments stage left.

He didn’t.

David’s hands come up to cover his mouth as Stevie takes over the lead vocals. He’s recreated everything – the singers, the sparkly silver scarves, the band kids in black shirts with silver stars. Every detail. Except Patrick and Stevie are singing the lead as a duet. It’s perfect.

Just when David is ready to cry from how much he loves his husband, the song ends and the silver curtain is raised to reveal a red background with Merry Christmas written on white puffy clouds. And there, behind the curtain, are Jocelyn and Roland Schitt, kissing.

David goes from almost crying to laughing so fast he actually snorts. Everyone around him is laughing too, though, so probably no one heard.

Jocelyn and Roland take a bow and wave their way off stage as the crowd goes absolutely wild. The performers all take their bows, and then the show is over.

There is still clean up to do, but that can wait. David rushes to meet Patrick as he comes out from the back stage area, wrapping him in his arms with such force that they both stumble a little.

“Merry Christmas, David,” Patrick whispers in his ear.

“Merry Christmas, Patrick. I love you.”


End file.
